


Time Has Come Today

by TehrBear



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Consent Issues, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, and nothing else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehrBear/pseuds/TehrBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine a world where every relationship has a knowable expiration date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cris and Mental Lists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris feels like something is wrong between him and Sergio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be working on the sequel to Ain't it Fun, but I did this instead.
> 
> This has not been beta'd so all mistakes are my own. If you find any grammar/spelling mistakes please do tell me.
> 
> I do not own the characters as they are real people but I own all other elements of the story which is completely fictional and not to be taken seriously at all.

"Now the time has come

There's no place to run

I might get burned up by the sun

But I had my fun."

- _The Time Has Come Today_ , The Chamber Brothers

 

 

He’d never considered it. His thoughts had never wandered to the slightest inclination that it could be possible. Not with them. It felt too fucking real. But when Sergio came home late for the third time in a row, Cristiano realized he knew exactly what was going on. He had only been a spectator to it before, but the signs were all there. The secretiveness, the vague conversations, the growing distance. He didn’t want to believe it but he didn’t know what else to think.

Now, on the fourth night, he sat on his bed, which was still made (he had been too restless to try and sleep). Unlike the other three nights, Sergio was late enough for Cris to think he might not come home at all. Unlike the other three nights, Sergio wasn’t answering his calls. He was more worried about the man, than what he thought might be going on. Sergio _always_ answered his calls. The fact that he wasn’t now only reiterated the scorching thought, the fear, that something wasn’t right. That things between them weren’t okay.

He was chewing his nails when he heard the echoing of the front doors lock being opened. Or at least, attempts were being made. He shot up from the bed and ran down, stubbing his toe painfully against the railing at the bottom of the staircase. He hissed sharply and limped over to the door, twisting the lock and pushing the handle down. Sergio must have been leaning against the door because he collapsed against Cris. Cris put his arms around Sergio so that he wouldn’t cause them both to fall over, but Sergio took it as affection and leaned into him. The smell of alcohol drifted to Cristiano’s nose and he cringed. He hated when Sergio drank. Sergio knew this. He hadn’t come home drunk in months and now, Cris had yet another thing to add to the growing list.

“Where have you been?” Sergio buried his nose in Cris’ neck and pressed a kiss on the sensitive skin.

“Was out with the guys.” His words were only slightly slurred but the way his hands were digging into Cris’ hips, even through the thick sweater the older man had on, gave away his state of mind more than words could.

“Sergio, I was worried sick.” Sergio pushed past Cris. Cris closed the door, making sure to pull out the key, that Sergio had left hanging, from the other side. He tried getting the other man’s attention. “Sergio did you hear me? I was worried. I couldn’t even sleep.”

Sergio had taken off his shoes and his jacket. He was already loosening his belt, right in the front hall as if he was in the bedroom and getting ready to climb into bed. “I told you that I’d be out tonight last week.”

Cris didn’t recall. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. He needed advice and he was going to have to wait till a reasonable hour in morning to get it. He couldn’t deal with Sergio right now. He hadn’t been able to handle sober Sergio these past few days and he wasn’t emotionally stable enough to deal with drunk Sergio. So he decided to turn in for the night and head up the stairs. Sergio, apparently, still wanted to talk.

“Hey wait,” he said, grabbing Cris’ hand before he got too far. He pulled him into a close embrace, cheek to cheek. A genuine hug, that warmed Cris down to his toes, even the one that he’d stubbed, which was still throbbing horribly. He didn’t return the hug, but he could feel that list, that mental list of reasons that dictated why they could be falling apart, fading and being replaced by the list of reasons he fell in love with Sergio in the first place. His hugs were pretty high on that list. “Are you mad at me?”

Was he mad at Sergio? No, he decided. He wasn’t mad. He was just worried. Worried about a lot of things, but not angry. So he sighed and told Sergio just that, as he raised his arms and linked his hands behind Sergio’s back.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I do.” Sergio laughed and pulled his head back to rest their foreheads together.

“I’m fine. I’m always fine knowing I have you to come home to.”

He leaned forward to kiss Cris. It was slow and careful and just a little sloppy. Despite how sweet it was, Cris wouldn’t help but notice that Sergio was misinterpreting what he was actually worrying about. Still, kisses like this one were definitely high on his ‘Why I Love Sergio’ list. So he let himself enjoy it. Ignoring the taste of beer, thick on Sergio’s tongue and instead focusing on the way it expertly danced with his own. He focused on Sergio’s teeth grazing his lips, coming into contact with his own, not colliding, but just touching before Sergio moved his mouth to Cris’ neck and used one arm to pull him even closer. Cris didn’t want this to go too far, not while he wasn’t in the mood, not while Sergio wasn’t sober, not so late at night, and not on the staircase. Not right now. Then he felt Sergio’s hard on against his thigh and realized that the situation was well on its way to going too far. So he unwound his arms from around the younger man and tried to gently urge him to stop.

“Sergio. I think that’s enough, I just want to sleep.” But Sergio's teeth were unforgiving on the skin of his neck. Cris groaned involuntarily and that was all the invitation Sergio needed to push his hand past the waistband of Cris’ sweatpants and wrap his fingers around the base of the shaft that was definitely not as excited as his own. The intrusion unsettled Cris. "Sergio, no! Stop!"

Cris shoved him hard but Sergio wasted no time in trying to feel him up again, this time backing Cris right up against staircase railing.

“What’s the harm in a little relief before we go to bed?” Sergio had Cristiano’s hands in a bruising grip as he tried to kiss him again, but Cris wouldn’t let him. He turned his head to the side. “Come on baby I’m so hard for you.”

Sergio pinned his arms behind him uncomfortably with one hand and grabbed his face with the other. As Sergio’s tongue pushed its way into Cris’ mouth, Cris knew it would be easy to fight back, to push Sergio away and yell at him for being like this.

Instead, he returned Sergio’s kiss, receiving an appreciative moan in response. Because he was tired. He was _so_ fucking tired. And as much as he wanted to fight for Sergio, _his Sergio_ , he couldn’t. Not at that moment.

So when his hands were free, he didn’t use them to shove his way upstairs, or maybe out the door. When Sergio pushed down on his shoulders, he got onto his knees instead of telling Sergio he didn’t want to. He didn’t complain at how harsh Sergio’s hands felt in his hair, when the usual touch was so soothing. He didn’t complain when Sergio pushed too deep and made him gag painfully, even though when he was relaxed, when he was eager to please, Cris could take it so easily. Even the way Sergio tasted was tainted horribly with how Cris felt about him at the moment. Regardless, he swallowed every last drop. Not that he had much of a choice—Sergio didn’t let go of his head until he did.

He thought it would be better if Sergio had left, gone to sleep, or even just left the house. But he didn’t. Instead, as Cris lay on the floor, he joined him. And touched him. Told him how good his mouth felt. He caressed Cris’ face, leaving soft kisses along his jawline. He once again put a hand down Cris’ sweatpants and stroked him to full hardness. He pulled Cris onto his lap as he increased the pace. Cris couldn’t help the way his body was reacting to Sergio’s touch and hated the way the feeling was already reaching his toes. He was going to cum and he didn’t want to, but Sergio’s hands knew him well, even when he wasn’t sober.

When he came, he was a sobbing mess. But Sergio couldn’t comfort him. Sergio couldn’t even begin to understand what had just taken place. Neither of them could walk up the stairs properly, Sergio because of the alcohol in his system and Cristiano because his legs were trembling with the thought of what just happened—what he had allowed to happen—and what he might allow to happen when they got upstairs. But nothing did. Sergio shed his clothes and got under the sheets. Cris took off his sweater, and changed his soiled sweatpants. He should have brushed his teeth too. Normally he would have forced Sergio to get up and brush his teeth before bed as well, but that wasn’t happening. Nothing was happening. Except the unraveling of years of trust and dependability.

Cris curled into Sergio’s body, his anxiety not as prevalent as it had been a few minutes ago. He knew that in the morning, when Sergio was no longer drunk, whether he remembered what happened or not, at least he would be able to see a shell of the old Sergio. _His_ Sergio.

But the more Cris thought about who was to blame, he couldn’t find it in him to blame Sergio entirely. Because if what he’d been raised to believe was true, then Cris and Sergio’s love had run its course. They had run out of time. But if they had to break apart, why was he so upset about it? If they had to fall out of love, why was he so hopelessly in it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not condone sexual violence of any kind no matter how debatable consent may seem. Consent isn't something that should be up for debate at all.
> 
> Please don't rape people, it's a shitty thing to do.


	2. Doing What Needs to be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Sergio is involved in situations that might end in potential lawsuits very often and that worries Cris.

It all started with an automated voice mail.

 _We have been informed that you and your partner have not yet visited the Ministry of Affairs to register your relationship and receive your date of cancellation. It is adamant that you do this immediately. You are required by law to declare yourself to ensure the smooth running of Affairs. Please visit the branch of the Ministry closest to you and register immediately. If you do not register by the end of the month, immediate disciplinary actions will be taken at appropriate measures. The consequences include but are not limited to—_ *Beep!* _Message deleted._

“Sergio!” Cris smacked his boyfriends arm as it replaced their house phone into its charging dock.

“What?” Cris glared at him from where he sat on the couch.

“Why’d you do that? I was listening!”

Sergio bent forward to kiss the frown off Cris’ face but Cris shoved him away. Sergio pouted and Cris rolled his eyes at him. "What’s the point? I thought we decided we weren’t going to register. Why should the government need to meddle in our personal lives just because they discovered how to predict the mortality of a relationship?"

“I don’t like it any more than you do.” And he really didn’t. “But they’re becoming stricter about the rules.”

When it had first become popular _—_ registering a relationship just so you could see when it would end _—_ he’d scoffed at it. The method had been around since his parents were young but no one had wanted to try it back then. They thought that it ruined the sanctity of what destiny and fate was supposed to be—unknown. Then, people started doing it just for the hell of it. People were registering even friendships just to see if they were worth the hassle. And the ones that didn’t want fate to dictate how their relationship went, the one’s that thought that there was no point in ruining an experience like that, just didn’t.

Soon enough, the government noticed that divorce rates were going down, there were less lawsuits because people weren’t breaching prenups. Children were no longer being abandoned, nor were they either being torn away from one parent and forced with the other, or being torn apart by joint custody. People were starting to get along better. Not everyone, however, was taking advantage of this opportunity. People who didn’t have much knowledge about it avoided it completely and most were just too old school, thinking it was wrong and that no one should possess that kind of information about destiny. Eventually, it wasn’t just an option, it was recommended, and then strongly encouraged, and then completely mandatory. And now Cris was scared.

“They can’t do a thing to us.” Sergio had always been kind of against any kind of authority, which was the reason he and Cris met. He wouldn’t have Sergio be any other way, but it was seriously going to come back to bite them in the ass.

“Just last week they imprisoned a couple in Turkey. They ended up finding out that their relationship was going to last sixty more years but they’re never going to see each other again.” Some places had more laws in place than others.

“That’s not going to happen to us.”

“Sergio…”

“Hmm...?” The man sat down on the opposite end of the couch and deposited his feet into Cris’s lap.

“I know you’re against this. I am too! But... maybe, just this time, we shouldn’t be rebellious.”

“No.”

“We don’t have to check when our relationship will end. I know that they give the info to us in a sealed envelope so we can just throw it away or burn it or whatever but, _please_. I don’t want to take the chance.”

“Cris nothing will—”

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

Sergio looked at him strangely before shooting up from the couch and grabbing the house phone from where he had put it and leaving the room. Cris stared after him in disbelief. He couldn’t hear the conversation but it didn’t take long for Sergio to come back. He put the phone down again sat down next to Cris, who let himself be pulled into an embrace. Sergio kissed his hair. “I called them.”

Cris groaned loudly and pulled away. “Please don’t tell me you swore at them again. We really don’t need a potential lawsuit on our hands.”

Sergio chuckled, pulling Cris back into his chest. “No, silly. I made an appointment for Saturday. To get registered.”

Cris was definitely surprised. Sergio was the most stubborn person he knew and he hadn’t really put up a fight against his unwillingness to do this. “Really?”

“Really. Just one thing.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not going with you. I love you, but I’m not setting a foot in that place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be roughly this length but updated pretty quickly.
> 
> Please leave a comment telling me why or why not you liked it. Constructive criticism is extremely encouraging. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. All you did was wreck my bed and in the morning kick me in the head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio and Cris talk but not really.

           When Cristiano woke up to dimness, instead of light streaming in from the parted curtains and burning into his retinas, and the memories of the night before flooded into his mind, he scrunched his eyes shut again and groaned. He didn’t have to go to work until later, so he thought he might as well try and get more sleep. Sergio’s warmth was gone, but that was expected. He usually left the house before Cristiano woke up anyways.

“Cris?” He slowly opened his eyes in the direction of the apprehensive sound to see Sergio by the closet, tying his tie. Sergio had a pained expression tainting his face. His usually styled hair was disheveled as if he hadn’t bothered with it in the slightest. Cris didn’t reply. “I have to get going.”

Cris nodded and was about to turn to his side when Sergio spoke up again.

“Cris I—” he paused and looked down at his feet. Tugging at his tie slightly, Cris saw he was choosing his next words very carefully. He wasn’t expecting an apology, because Sergio knew that Cris wouldn’t appreciate one. ‘Sorry’s’ were pretty moot in their relationship—they didn’t resolve anything. But the subject had to be addressed, and there was no easy way to bring it up. “I shouldn’t have been drinking. I promised you that.”

Cris frowned. That was another thing he didn’t want to hear.

“I promised myself that I wouldn’t.” That was better. “And I disappointed the both of us. And because of it I—I hurt you. And I couldn’t regret anything more.”

Cris gave him a small smile. He didn’t want more than Sergio accepting that he made a mistake. Even if it was one he wasn’t going to get over very soon. The alcohol couldn’t be blamed, not entirely, but Cris understood that Sergio honestly didn’t want to hurt him. If anything had come out of the years they spent together, it was that they could never intentionally hurt each other. At least that’s what Cris wanted to believe. A haunting memory lurked in the back of his mind.

“You were saying no and I still—and you were crying.” Sergio sat down at the foot of the bed and buried his face in his hands. “Fuck I didn’t even realize until you started crying!”

Cris sat up. He reached out to touch Sergio’s shoulder but thought better of it. Sergio straightened himself, as if realizing it wasn’t his place to be upset.

“I’ll be back early today.” He said getting up. Cris noticed him hesitate. If Cris was ever awake before Sergio left, they would end up making out at the door until Sergio was almost late. Cris wanted to kiss the haunted look off of Sergio’s face but he didn’t. He wasn’t in any way ready to forgive. He didn’t want Sergio to touch him and at the same time he wanted to be held. He didn’t give in. Because he wasn’t just punishing Sergio, he was punishing himself too. He gave Sergio the power to hurt him, without which, last night would have ended very differently.

He nodded at Sergio as a confirmation and watched his retreating back as he left the room. And then he collapsed into the pillows. There was a dull throbbing trying to get his attention, somewhere lower on his body—his foot, maybe? He pushed it to the back of his mind.

The smell of Sergio’s cologne invaded his nose, and it comforted him unlike the smell of alcohol the night before. He buried his face into Sergio’s pillow and lay on Sergio’s side of the bed and thought about four nights ago when he'd lain under Sergio after they’d both been thoroughly spent. Four days ago, before the doubt and the fear and the anxiety had all become too much for him to bear. And he thought about the opened envelope he’d hidden in the pantry behind the jam biscuits that Sergio would never touch. The date stamped on the letter inside, that would be forever burned into his mind. And would haunt him until it came. And even after, until the day he died.

He wondered how it would end. Was Sergio going to leave him? Or was it going to be the other way around? Because Cris knew that there was no way he would be the one to break it off. Even after last night he would _never_ think about leaving Sergio. He’d been so sure. When he’d decided to open the envelope he’d been so sure that the date wouldn’t condemn them to an early doom. It was always Sergio for him.

But still, after everything, he had a lick of hope. He’d heard stories about people who had lasted well beyond their relationships expiration. Had fought on instead of perishing at the hands of fate. And stories like that gave him hope. But something told him they were just that. Stories.


	4. Penis Doodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The registration process. There is no dialogue in this chapter.

The registration process was simple and straightforward, but long and tedious. The Ministry of Affairs and mailed them a packet of forms to fill out. Once the forms were all done, Cristiano could take deep breath of relief. Sergio’s mood wasn’t exactly sour, considering how he felt about the situation, but Cris could feel a tiny bit of resentment coming from him as they filled out page after page of repetitive bullshit and uncomfortably personal questions.

Mostly, the questions were about when they met, first determined their relationship, how long they had been together, and other similar things. Then there were questions about how they defined their relationship—platonic, romantic, sexual, a mixture? They were asked about their parents’ relationships, whether they had ever registered before with someone else, if they had ever had unsuccessful and unregistered relationships, whether they were going to view their expiration date after they received it (even though registering had become mandatory, the government had not started forcing people to know the dates or only pursue relationships that were absolutely successful. Sergio thought it was only a matter of time. Cris couldn’t help but agree.)

The questions just got strange after a while. They were asked what kind of pornography they enjoyed viewing, alone and together. They were asked about their masturbation habits (and both were indeed surprised to learn about each other’s). One page just had a picture of a bubble and they were told to each right a five hundred word response on their reaction to the picture. One page just had strange symbols on it so they doodled highly detailed penises all over it (they were pretty sick of the paperwork by this point). About halfway through the forms ( _only_ three hours since they’d started), they managed to get their hands in each other’s pants and tongues down each other’s throats and Cris accidentally knocked over a mug of coffee over their next page, which fell apart when they tried to pick it up, so they just pretended it had never been there. They were supposed to provide DNA samples so they had gone to a clinic to get blood drawn, as it was one of the acceptable forms of samples they could provide.

Even though they (mostly) had things in order, and Cris had turned in everything to the registrar when he’d walked in at twelve o’clock, as per the appointment Sergio had gotten for him, there was still a sense of unease that he couldn’t shake. He’d thought that the interview phase would happen while the forms and blood samples were being reviewed but he’d apparently been wrong, because he ended up spending his entire afternoon at the Ministry of Affairs. He was kept entertained by a constant stream of texts coming in from several of his friends. None, however, from Sergio. He’d shot him a text telling him that he was super bored and was totally up for sexting but had gotten no reply. His phone said the message had been read, and even that Sergio had started typing but nothing came in reply.

Finally the registrar called him up again. He was the only person that was there alone and felt stares on his back as he followed the registrar into the room where he was told the interview phase would take place. The interview ended up mostly being a review of the most important questions on the form as a confirmation. They needed to know if all the information was correct and no mistakes were made. Things like dates and spellings of names or places could affect the results greatly. There was no mention of the penis doodles or the missing page, so Cris could only guess that they weren’t all that important.

The registrar eventually came back to escort him back to the waiting room, gave him a congratulations and handed him an envelope with the official seal of the Ministry of Affairs keeping it closed. Which it would remain forever. Because neither Cris nor Sergio wanted to know. They had too much faith in themselves to resign to flipping over to the back of the book and reading the last page “just in case it wasn’t worth it”, as most people put it.

Sergio had told him that he shouldn’t bother bringing the envelope home. Initially, he didn’t want to either but, now that confidential paper was in his hand, the wax of the seal still warm against his palm, he couldn’t. He didn’t exactly feel compelled to open it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. So he slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket and tried to forget that it was burning a hole into his chest.


	5. I've gotta be on my way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris does chores.
> 
> James is a little loud and intrusive but a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so boring I'm so sorry.

Cristiano didn’t go to work. Really he didn’t have to very often. He could work from home, having an office for himself was just a formality and it made it easier for people to get in contact with him. But his new line was going to hit the runway in just a few days and he knew he needed to be there to make everything perfect. Still, his people were highly efficient and could manage for a day without him, he wouldn’t have hired them otherwise.

So he lay on Sergio’s pillow and battled his conflicting thoughts. He knew what Sergio did was wrong, drunk or not. But at the same time, he loved him so much, that he kept finding ways to blame everything but Sergio.

_Alcohol really does make people different, and it only brings out the worst in Sergio especially. I was lucky he didn’t get violent with me like he did with that one guy at that bar one time…_

_If that date on the envelope is right, then this is just destiny working against us. I can’t let something like destiny tear us apart. Yes… it was stupid, fucking destiny, not Sergio. Not my Sergio._

_I’m always putting out. He must think I’m always in the mood no matter what. Maybe if I didn’t act like such a slut all the time I wouldn’t get treated like one._

In the end he had to admit that even if all those other factors applied, it was still Sergio who was in the wrong. Cris wondered why Sergio was going to come early. It couldn’t be to end it with him. Their date was close but not _that_ close. But along with stories of people fighting fate to stay together, he’d also heard of those who fought to stay apart, even if destiny said they’d be together all their lives. Was it possible? Was Sergio coming home early to give himself time to pack his things? Or to force Cris to pack his?

For the thousandth time since the night before he found the thought _not my Sergio_ crossing his mind.

Suddenly, he could no longer bear to lie down. He needed to move, to do something. He could go to work but people would surely notice his bloodshot eyes—the depressing aura he was emitting. So he settled for housework. He stripped the bed of its sheet and the pillows of their cases (all except Sergio’s), gathered the rest of the laundry and headed to the laundry room in the basement. His foot was throbbing—his toe specifically. He could vaguely remember having hurt it the day before but he couldn’t concentrate on the pain so he thought it might not be all that bad. He took his time separating the darks and the lights, putting things that needed to be dry cleaned in the designated dry cleaning bag. After starting the machine he went back up and found that the mess they’d left on the floor by the stairs had already been cleaned up. Cris pushed the thought of Sergio having done it before he left out of his mind.

He washed the dishes in the sink, again taking his time to keep himself distracted. He scrubbed every dish a little too much and rinsed them for a little too long. It still didn’t take much time to do since there were only two people living in the house and they were generally tidy. The trash hadn’t been taken out. He’d been too worried about Sergio to do did it the day before, so he did it now. He walked slowly. Their garden was usually lively and colourful, giving off scents of all kinds and always perfectly manicured. It lacked charm though, in the winter, looking as dull as Cris felt. So he walked faster, to get inside again as fast as he could and not have to face his emotions in a physical form.

He unloaded the washer, moving whatever could be machine dried into the dryer and everything that couldn’t be, into a laundry basket. He put the second load of clothes in the washer and picked up the laundry basket. Realizing that he’d have to go out to the back garden, which was just as drab as the front, to hang the clothes to dry on the clothesline, he settled for spreading the wet clothes over the furniture in the basement instead. He’d heard that the smell of detergent doesn’t completely go away if you air dry clothes indoors versus outdoors but he really couldn’t give a shit. He completed every chore he could find. None of them took long enough—none of them distracted him for long enough.

His phone had been ringing off the hook since people had realized he wasn’t going to be at the office, and he had eventually turned it on silent, not wanting to talk to anyone, but the sound of the doorbell as he waited for the last load of laundry to finish its cycle caught him by surprise. Who the fuck would be visiting him at a time like this? He realized who it would be the second he reached the door. He contemplated letting James keep on ringing until he gave up and left, but he didn’t know James to be one to give up.

“Fucking hell!” James whined, when Cris made the decision to let him in. “I’ve been calling you since I woke up but you wouldn’t pick up _and_ I went to your office but no one knew where you were _and_ I called Sergio but he got all weird and stuttery before he said he had to go and hung up on me _and_ you made me wait ten whole fucking minutes in the _fucking cold_ before you decided to bless me with your presence. So, is His Highness having a temper tantrum? Am I going to have to spank you to get you to behave and not ignore me?”

He didn’t know James to talk this much, or swear this much, either. Which meant something was wrong, and Cris had broken some unsaid promise between them by not answering James’ calls.

“Toni is being such a dick right now.”

“Why?” Cris’ voice was scratchy from not having spoken all morning. He cleared his throat. “What happened?”

“He keeps pressuring me. I mean I know I’m being a bit of a prude but I barely know him. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I’m just not ready yet and he’s not getting that.” James’ shoulders slumped. “Ugh, why can’t we be like you and Sergio? You guys waited _so_ long before having sex and it never put a rift between you two.”

Cris felt like he couldn’t breathe. He and Sergio _had_ waited a really long time before doing anything beyond messy, uncoordinated hand jobs. It wasn’t that neither of them had been ready. They had definitely been ready, but Sergio wanted Cris to trust him absolutely before they took the next step in their relationship. And with good reason too. At first Cris had been pissed, but he didn’t regret waiting.

The feelings were becoming overwhelming. He was wishing for a time before now. _Any_ time as long as it wasn’t now. So in the middle of James’ rant, he started bawling. He had no idea where the tears had even come from, when they had started welling up in his eyes and when they had started falling. It took him a while to realize that the broken sounds he was hearing were coming from his own throat, which was closed up, making it extremely difficult to take proper breaths.

James was surprised at the sudden outburst but nevertheless pulled Cris into his arms and tried to sooth him. Cris sobbed into James shoulder. He was inconsolable and the thought of being an inconvenience to James only made him cry harder.

"Hey, shh," James said, rubbing circles into Cris’ back. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

Cris tried to speak, but choked on his own scattered breaths.

“Okay, don’t talk.” James let go and grabbed Cris’ coat from the closet by the door. He helped Cris into the coat and pulled him outside and then into his car (Cris pointedly ignored his garden, afraid that he’d only put himself in an even worse emotional position). Cris was visibly and audibly calmer but neither said a word as James drove. He parked somewhere, a parking lot by the looks of it, not in an area Cris recognized and got out if the car. He came back around five minutes later with two Dairy Queen Blizzards. “Okay, now talk.”

Cris didn’t. Not right away. First he took a bite of his ice cream. Turtle Pecan, fuck James knew him well. When he did finally speak, his voice shook. “It’s Sergio.”

James nodded. “I figured as much. Your face kind of lost colour when I mentioned his name.”

Cris told James he had opened the envelope. He told James the date. His friends eyebrows knitted in concern.

“Cris, I can’t believe this.”

“How can it be over? How is it possible if I still feel this strongly?” A thought invaded his mind. He turned to grab James’ arm as he was raising it to shovel ice cream into his mouth. “You registered your last relationship, didn’t you?”

“Yeah I did.”

“Were you still in love? When your date came?”

James shook his head. “There was nothing left between me and Gareth.”

Cris rubbed his raw eyes with his fingers. He’d run out of tears for now, but he really wanted to cry some more.

“But Cris, some things just aren’t meant to be. No matter what one feels.”

“I can’t imagine anyone but Sergio. I couldn’t bear being with anyone else.”

“I thought that too. But then Gareth and I started drifting apart. You never know, a lot could happen between now and that date Cris.”

Then, Cris hesitantly told James about what happened the night before. He watched James put his ice-cream down into one of the cup holders. He clenched his hands into fists and then slowly unclenched them before reaching for Cris’ free hand. He held it in both of his and squeezed before speaking, holding Cris’ gaze with surprising intensity.

“You have to break it off.” Cris shook his head, finding it difficult to look away from James’ eyes. “You have to. And you have to do it now. Don’t wait for the date Cris, do it now.”

Cris continued shaking his head. “I can’t. James, I just can’t. He’s my _everything_!”

“And if he does it again? If he actually physically harms you next time? What will happen then? Will you keep making excuses?”

“It won’t happen again. I wouldn’t let it. It was my fault too. I knew he wasn’t thinking straight and I knew I could have stopped him if I tried. But I didn’t.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

“I’m not. But I can’t blame him entirely.”

“Yes you can. Cris you have to be strong. You can’t just forgive him!”

“I’m not going to forgive him this easily. But I’m not letting him go. Ever.”


	6. Is this a zit or an aging spot?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris comes home from the registration office.

Sergio greeted him at the door when he got home from the Ministry of Affairs with a smile and a kiss. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, I uh, got done with work early.” Sergio fumbled a little with Cris’ jacket zipper for a second before managing to get it open, off his boyfriend’s shoulders and onto the floor. He didn’t notice the corner of an envelope sticking out of the inside pocket. Cris took that to his advantage and turned them both around so that Sergio could no longer see the jacket that was now discarded on the floor.

“You didn’t answer my text earlier.” Cris bit back the manly giggle that was threatening to bubble over as Sergio slipped his hand underneath the material of his shirt. Sergio would never let him be if he actually _giggled_.

“Sorry,” Sergio mumbled against Cris’ cheek. “Mourinho dumped a bunch of files on my desk as soon as I saw it and gave me a dirty look until I put my phone away. And then it totally slipped my mind.”

“S’alright.” As much as he appreciated Sergio planting kisses across his jaw and to a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear, he was too distracted to be aroused. “I’m not in the mood, Sergio.”

Sergio raised his head to look at Cris and smiled when Cris kissed his brow. “Makes sense. Was the registration office as depressing as I predicted it would be?”

“Ugh, it was so much worse.” They made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand (after Cris had put away his jacket into the farthest corner of the closet just in case). “Half the couples there were all lovey dovey and on their way to some seriously offensive PDA. The other half looked far more miserable than even me to be there. And I was the only one alone, it was so awkward.”

“Hmm.” Sergio bustled around the kitchen as he whipped up an early dinner for the two of them. They chatted about Cristiano’s new shirts line, and how Real Madrid was doing so far in the season and ‘Sergio is this a zit on my forehead or an aging spot, no wait, don’t tell me, both are horrible and I’m just going to pray that whatever it is, goes away’ to which Sergio licked his thumb and wiped it on Cris’ forehead, making the man frown in disgust and saying ‘it’s gone, I think it was just a pen mark’. Cris had to go wash his face after that but they made out on the couch afterwards, their mouths colliding, languid sucking, tongues probing—slowly, deeply, their tastes mingling—so Cris ended up with Sergio’s saliva on his face anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is so short, another chapter will be up later in the day :)


	7. Is that better?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris and Sergio finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy, so I updated in less than 5 hours!!! How is that for impressive?
> 
> Enjoy!!! The next chapter will be up tomorrow morning :)

James dropped him back at his house. He wanted to stay, but after seeing Sergio’s car in the driveway, Cris blackmailed him into leaving, threatening to cut out James’ part of the photo shoot from his clothing lines release. Even though that wasn’t something that James cared all that much about, he could see that whatever conversation was going to take place needed to happen just between the two of them. Cris hesitated before climbing the porch stairs. His toe throbbed and he tried not to limp, but it hurt even more so he gave up. Sergio opened the door as Cris was getting out his keys. Their eyes met for a few seconds and Cris was the one to look away.

“Hey.” Cris nodded in Sergio’s general direction.

“You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“I... let me take your coat. I didn’t actually expect you to be home this early either.” Cris let Sergio take his coat and watched him hang it.

“I was with James. I didn’t go into the office today.”

Sergio’s eyes went wide. “But your line...?”

“It’s done mostly. It’ll be fine.” They stood, avoiding each other’s gaze.

“I uh, did the rest of the laundry. I mean, I assume it was you who started it.”

“Yeah, it was.”  _ Who else would it be? _ Cris repressed the urge to roll his eyes and instead went to go up the stairs.

“Cris, can we maybe sit down and—wait why are you limping?” Cris stopped right where he had stubbed his toe in the first place.

“It’s just my toe. It hurts a little.”

“What happened?” Sergio reached to put a hand on Cris’ arm, pulled back, but then did anyways. Cris didn’t move away. But he didn’t lean into Sergio’s touch as he usually would either.

“Stubbed it. Yesterday.”

“I don’t think it should still be hurting. Not if it happened yesterday.”

“Sergio, it’s not that bad.”

“You can barely put your foot down. We’re going to the hospital, now.” If it was any other time. Sergio wouldn’t have hesitated to pull him out to the car and take him to the hospital. But he couldn’t do that when he didn’t know where he stood with Cris at the moment. So instead he waited for a reply.

“I’m fine, really. I’m sure it’ll stop hurting.”

“Cris please don’t punish yourself.” Cris pulled his arm from Sergio’s grasp.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just… please don’t deny my help just because you’re angry at me.” Was that what he was doing? He didn’t think his toe hurt enough to go to the hospital but all of a sudden it  _ really _ did. No, he wasn’t denying Sergio’s help. He’d just been so distracted by thoughts far more painful than a bruised toe. So he nodded at Sergio.

“Do you want me to take a look before we go?”

“It’s fine.” That was the third time he had used the word ‘fine’ in their conversation and they hadn’t even approached the ‘definitely not fine’ subject yet. “Let’s go.”

The emergency room was very remote. A doctor attended to Cris within twenty minutes of them arriving. Cris, still in sweatpants, felt unruly next to Sergio in his black pants and button down shirt, and even more so when he took off his shoe and revealed his toe. It had been blue in the morning but it was almost black now. The doctor hissed and gave a low whistle.

“I don’t have to do anything to know that that’s broken.”  The doctor prodded the skin around the ugly bruise, causing Cris to wince. Sergio took a hold of his hand. “But we’re going to get an X-ray of it anyways to see if we’re going to have to set the bone in any way.”

The injury wasn’t too serious, and most of the bruise had either been caused by the initial injury or the fact that he’d been on his feet all day and not caused by any complications. The doctor buddy wrapped his big toe with the smaller one next to it and told him to stay off it as much as possible and that over-the-counter pain medication should work fine. Cris was hoping for a prescription to something stronger.

Sergio drove them to the pharmacy to get the pain medication and then home. Cris got settled in bed and Sergio put a pillow under his foot to keep it elevated. Then, as Cris answered all the calls he had missed in the morning (which reassured him that the release of his line would go smoothly), Sergio gently iced his toe to reduce the swelling. Cris cringed at the black and blue visual he got of his own foot. He didn’t know how Sergio could stand to touch it. One of Sergio’s hands was resting lightly on Cris’ ankle. The other was holding the ice pack to his toe, at one angle for a few seconds and then another to avoid one area becoming too cold.

“Is that better?”

“Much better. Thanks.”

“It’s not too cold?”

“No, it’s fine.” There’s that word again.

“About yesterday…”

“Sergio, you were drunk. Nothing serious happened, it’s okay.”

“How can you say that?” Sergio’s grip on his ankle tightened a bit. “It’s not okay!”

“Please just—”

“I can’t ignore how affected you are. Even if you want to pretend you’re not.”

“It wasn’t...it wasn’t last night that’s been...affecting me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I could have stopped you, Sergio, but that’s not the point. The point is that—what I’m really upset about is the fact that we’re drifting apart.” Sergio’s eyes widened. It was mostly the truth, not the whole truth (because Cris really was upset about last night, but more at himself at this point than anything), but as much of the truth as Cris could muster up the courage to say.

“You,” Sergio looked down at the ice pack in his hand, “think that we’re drifting apart?”

“It feels like it.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I just—um, this past week or so, you’ve been kinda distant. And distracted. You’ve been staying out so late, and we’ve barely spoken or even seen much of each other.”

“Cris…”

“I mean I understand that you get busy with work, but you could just say that. You could just say that you have a lot of work instead of avoiding the question and then last night you came home drunk and...and that’s why I’m upset.”

Sergio didn’t speak for a while, nor did he look up from the ice pack. But when he did, his voice was gravelly—broken, as if he was holding back tears. “So that’s what you meant when you said you were worried.”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“I really fucked up, didn’t I.”

“No, you didn’t.” Sergio looked up at Cris and was met with a shy smile. “Nothing could change how I feel about you.”

Sergio began rubbing small circles onto the skin of Cris’ ankle. “I guess I should probably come clean.”

Cris leaned up on the pillows Sergio had propped up behind his shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t exactly been busy with work.”

“Sergio…”  _ Please don’t let this be the worst case scenario. _

“I enrolled myself in rehab.”

_ What?  _ “What?”

“You know how I said I’d quit drinking?” Cris nodded. “I was having a hard time, especially last week. So I decided to get some help. Then yesterday, it got really bad. I was out with the guys and I couldn’t—so today I opted out of going to work and went to my therapist instead.”

“You’re in rehab?”

Sergio chuckled. “Keep up, babe.”

“What did your therapist say?”

“That I should tell you. And talk to you about it. I’ve talked to her about us a lot. She thinks that you’d support me no matter what.”

“Of course I will.” Cris scooted up so he could grab Sergio’s face in his hands. “Don’t ever think I won’t support you.”

“But that’s the problem.” Cris frowned. He didn’t think it was a problem. It seemed like more of a solution to him. Sergio covered Cris’ hands with his own and brought them down into his lap. He traced his thumbs over Cris’ knuckles. “I know that no matter what you say, on the inside you’re finding ways to blame yourself, external influences, anything and everything but me.”

“About your drinking…?”

“About everything I do wrong. And don’t even try to deny it. I’ve known you way too long.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“I know you well enough to know that you can’t lie when it comes to feelings.”

“I could have—”

“—stopped me? I know you could have but the fact that you didn’t doesn’t make it your fault.”

“Partially—”

“No, Cris! I didn’t realize it until now but, I’ve been playing with your feelings. I should have told you about rehab right away so you wouldn’t have thought that we were drifting apart. If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have been so emotionally exhausted. Last night would have gone very differently, or at least you’d be rightfully angry with me instead of blaming yourself”

Cris nodded. “But you’ve told me now, so…”

“So,” Sergio sighed, “hopefully we can grow from this.”

“Definitely.” Cris scooted closer. “We can.”


	8. Please, Don't Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Cris opened the envelope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proof read so I'll read through it later and fix any mistakes.

Two months was not enough time.

_No, no, no._

Cris squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that when he opened them, the words, the numbers, everything would change.

_Please, no._

It couldn’t be over so soon. It didn’t feel over. It wasn’t over. But the piece of paper in his hand—with a tiny drop of blood on the corner from a severe papercut he got whipping the sheet out of the envelope—wasn’t known to tell lies. He crumpled it up as the tears fell freely from his eyes, without consent, which only made him angrier.

_Screw fate. Destiny can shove a pole up its ass._

No one, nothing, was going to tell him that he couldn’t be with Sergio. He didn’t know the process for finding out these dates—as if the government would ever spill—but it had to be wrong. There had to be some mistake. He and Sergio were meant to be. Forever.

_We can fight it. People have done that before, right?_

Had they, though? There had always been stories, of course. But was there any truth? He knew for certain that people who crossed their relationships expiration date and broke up, sometimes got back together with new dates. That didn’t work for him. He didn’t want to break up with Sergio at all.

_What if it all really will be over? What if there’s nothing I can do to stop this?_

That was the wrong thing to think. Because all of a sudden Cris’ breathing became extremely constricted. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. His head swam and nausea rose up through his chest until he was coughing and dry heaving. Everyone had long since gone home. There was no one to help him. He hadn’t had a panic attack in so long and he couldn’t remember what he had to do to calm down.

“Cris!” He could see a pair of shoes. “You’ll be alright, I’m here. Concentrate on your breathing.”

“I can’t,” he managed to choke out.

“Of course you can. I’m gonna help you get up okay?” Steady hands, compared to his own shaking ones, helped him back into his chair. He didn’t realize that he’d ended up on the ground. “Put your head between your knees...yeah, just like that. Listen to the sound of your own breathing. Try to slow it down.”

It took a few tries but he managed to regulate his breathing. A firm hand on his back, rubbing back and forth helped the nausea diminish. He knew he was probably sweating grossly and he was still shaking. His chest hurt and he felt cold, but he no longer felt like he was going to suffocate.

“Try standing up.” Cris shook his head. “Come on, you can do it.”

“No, I can’t,” Cris whimpered.

“You have to try.” He let those steady hands hoist him up onto his shaking legs. It wasn’t so bad. Putting all his focus into not falling over made him feel less anxious. The paper was still clutched tightly in his fist. There was a hand on his cheek, wiping away stray tears. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good.” Sergio brushed back the hair matted to his forehead with sweat with careful fingers.

“Just keep breathing like that and I promise you’ll feel better.” Cris rested his head on Sergio’s shoulder. Two arms snaked around him and held him steady. The pain in his chest began to subside. “What scared you so much?”

“I don’t know.” Then, as if it had never gone, panic began to rise in the pit of his stomach again. He held onto Sergio as tightly as he could. “Don’t leave me, Sergi please, don’t leave.”

“Of course I won’t. Why would I leave you?”

“I don’t know but please don’t.”

“I won’t.” Again Cris calmed down.

When he was sure Cris was okay, Sergio let go of him. Cris wiped his face and sat down again. “What are you doing here?”

“Well you said you’d be working late, and alone. So I thought I’d bring dinner to you.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I’m glad I did.” Sergio sat down across from Cris.

“I am too.”

Later when he was sure Sergio wasn’t looking, Cris straightened out the paper and folded it properly before putting back into the envelope. Which he hid among several other papers he needed to take home. When he got home, he stowed the envelope away behind some biscuits that Sergio hated, at the very back of the pantry.


	9. Cris makes mistakes too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio discovers what Cris has been hiding from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day again!

            Cris had been sick in bed for days now. After his line hit the runway, he was able to sit back and relax—the workload having been lifted off his shoulders. His toe was much better, only throbbing slightly when he put too much pressure on it. The only thing that sucked was the nasty flu he had come down with. It was gross and snotty and he felt like he was covered in icky germs and he couldn’t stand it. If it were up to him, he’d keep Sergio as far away as possible, so at least one of them was healthy, but Sergio didn’t seem afraid of being sick at all.

            Speaking of, things between the two of them, communication wise, were better. Sergio told him all about his private sessions with his therapist and even his meetings at an AA group that Cris convinced him to join. Cris told Sergio all about his insecurities and felt them all be diminished one by one. He didn’t however, say a word about their date, which was looming closer and closer. In fact, Cris did his best to forget about it. Which worked.

He was distracted enough as he was busy trying to convince Sergio that he was over that dreadful night. Sergio wasn’t convinced. In fact, he wasn’t happy at all about the way Cris seemed to just cast the situation aside. For someone who said he wasn’t going to forgive very easily, he seemed to do just that, and that was a punishment in of itself for Sergio. He couldn’t stand to watch Cris do that. He couldn’t stand that he’d driven Cris to do that.

And Cris, who was delirious with fever, didn’t notice. He was just happy to know Sergio wasn’t planning on breaking up with him anytime soon. He spent a great deal of time in bed, with Sergio tending to him in the mornings and evenings and whichever one of his friends who could drop by during the afternoon to check up on him. He only got up to use the bathroom. He couldn’t stand long enough to take a proper shower but he took plenty of baths with Epsom salts, baking soda, herbal oils and ground ginger, sipping cup after cup of lemon and peppermint green tea. Sergio was super skeptical about these kinds of ‘home remedies’ and really wished that Cris would take the prescribed medicine without too much of a fuss, but nevertheless, he prepared said baths and cups of tea whenever asked to because Cris seemed relaxed after them. Cris had honestly just read that these baths made your skin really soft and the teas were said to have detoxifying properties. He had no idea that in combination, they were supposed to help when you were sick.

“You’re working today?” Cris asked, as he watched Sergio walk out of the bathroom changed out of the sweatpants he’d been donning all morning. The question was followed by a horrible dry cough. Sergio winced and sat down next to Cris to rub his back. The doctor had said that if the cough didn’t subside they might have to consider some serious antibiotics. “I thought you had the day off.”

“No, I’m not working.” He continued rubbing Cris’ back. Sergio took note of the redness in the whites of his eyes, the bags under them, the paleness in his golden skin, the dryness around his nose. He felt so bad about Cristiano’s pain. “I have a therapy session today.”

“Today?”

“Yeah it’s the 21st right? It’s the last day she can sneak in before her vacation.” Sergio got up and headed to the door while Cris reached to the bedside table for his phone. “Hey I’ll make you some chai tea with milk before I leave.”

Cris pressed the lock button and his phone screen lit up. The 21st it was. Something stirred in his mind. “Were we supposed to do something important today?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why?” Sergio was out of sight by now but he raised his voice so that Cris could hear him. “I’ll bring you some of those biscuits you like too. The jam one’s right? You think you’ll be able to keep them down?”

Cris was feeling so confused, and strangely anxious. He felt like he was being given key pieces to a puzzle in the form of words but he just couldn’t piece them together. But slowly, through a haze of cough and fever medicine, the words pieced themselves. But too slow, because Sergio was already back in the room, holding a sheet of paper, different from any other because it had once been crumpled tightly into a ball, and the creases were still very prominent. It took a while for Sergio to tear his eyes away from the paper to look at Cris, his expression no less than a mixture between bleak and agonized. Cris tried to make his face look as apologetic as possible but he was plagued by another round of coughs. The 21st. It was the end. The end of everything. He’d hoped to avoid it. Would Sergio ever forgive him for lying?

“Cris...is this..?” Sergio looked back at the paper. “Cris this is dated for today.”

“Sergio please—”

“Today!” Sergio sounded hysterical. “What the fu—how could you do this? Why would you—”

“Sergio I’m so sorry.”

“Cris…” Sergio whimpered. “This says today.”

“I know.”

“How long have you _known_?”

“Two months.”

“You’ve known for _months_?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t say that! I thought we decided we wouldn’t say that to each other! That we wouldn’t lie to each other with empty apologies.”

“I swear this isn’t empty.”

“I thought we decided _together_ that we’d be completely honest with each other.” Sergio sat down on the bed, his back facing Cris. “But… we can’t let something like this ruin us.”

Cris sat up, he was breathing hard.

“I promised you I’d never leave you. I promised we wouldn’t drift apart. And we haven’t, we won’t.”

The nausea rose.

“Cris we can fight this,” Sergio said, turning to face Cris. “We don’t have to succumb to some date on some piece of paper. I love you. Just because today is the 21st isn’t going to change that.”

“What if we can’t Sergio?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What if this is what’s supposed to happen? What if this can’t be avoided?”

“Are you not willing to try at all?”

“For the last two months, I’ve asked around, I’ve searched every corner of the web, I can’t find a single account with realistic proof of two people staying together past their expiration date.”

“What exactly,” Sergio closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to say?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“I do.” Sergio said, his face dejected.

“Sergio, I love you but, what if that’s not enough?”

“It will be. If you’re willing to try.” Sergio took hold of one of Cris’ hands. It felt warm and clammy. “Are you?”

Cris didn’t answer. He couldn’t say a word as Sergio’s expression lost all hope, and then turned somber.

“Fine.” Sergio was out of the room before Cris could react. Cris tried to call out to him, but his abused vocal chords suddenly took another beating from a cough until he was legitimately fighting for breath. He found himself sweating and shaking as the sound of the front door slamming drifted up to the bedroom and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was sick and or because he was anxious. But he decided panicking wouldn’t help him. Sergio already promised to stay with him. It was Cris that wasn’t complying and he didn’t even know why. But he was going to fix this. He made a mistake. He should have told Sergio that he was willing to try—that he wanted nothing more than to try.

He was going to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter tomorrow is long in comparison to the one's so far.


	10. I think I'm in too deep, it's time to pull the cord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Cris and Sergio met.

A young Sergio, donning a flask left only with a couple of drops at the bottom, was walking down a remote street. He was late. He was supposed to meet someone at a park but he couldn’t find the damn place. He got out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hello?”

“Bro where the fuck is this park?”

“It’s on the corner of—hey wait, are you drunk?”

“No.” Sergio saw a cop car, so he gulped down the rest of the alcohol and deposited the flask in his pocket.

“You sound drunk. Sergio, do you know what time it is?”

“I’m completely sober, Gareth!”

“Then why are your words all blending in together.”

“Th’not”

Gareth sighed. There was no point in arguing with a drunk Sergio. “Yeah, okay. Where are you?”

“Not sure.”

“Gimme a street name dumbass.”

“Uh,” Sergio looked around, there was a little girl passing by him on a scooter. “Hey there, sweetie.”

The girl stopped and looked up at him. “I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers.”

“I’m not that much of a stranger. I’m a kid just like you.”

“You don’t look like a kid.”

“That’s cos I’m an old kid. I’m sixteen.”

“That’s so old! I’m only seven.”

“That’s pretty old too. Do me a favour, kiddo, tell me what street we’re on.”

“We’re on Tabis Dive.” Sergio smiled gratefully and put phone back to his ear.

“Kid says Tabis Dive.”

“Do you mean Travis Drive?”

“Look the kid said Tabis Dive, I don’t think she would lie.”

Another sigh. “Okay, quickest way to get here is if you go down to the dead end. You’ll see the park from there. You’re gonna have to climb over the fence in front of the abandoned house and the backyard basically opens out into the park.”

“There’s cops over here man. If they see me tryna jump over a fence, I’ll be screwed.”

“Okay then don’t go that way at all. Like at all. Cops don’t take people trying to break into that house very lightly. Go to the very other end of the street and then take a right on Peterson Street, that rounds all the way to the park.”

Sergio groans. “How long will that take?”

“Around twenty minutes.”

“No, I think I’ll the shortcut. Fuck the fucking  popo.”

“Sergio, no! Don’t—!” Sergio hung up and walked down to the dead end. There was no way he was going to walk for another twenty minutes.

He reached the fence—Gareth was right, he could see the park—and hooked his foot into one of the links and grabbed the highest link he could with one of his hands to hoist himself up. A hand held him back, turning him around with brute force and pushing him against the fence.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The man holding him by the collar was a cop—in his mid-twenties maybe. “Tryna break in are you?”

Sergio tried to squirm out of the grasp. “Relax I’m just cutting through to the park over there.”

There was another, older, cop right behind the one with the iron hold. The one that was practically breathing in his face laughed. “As if. Was that meant to be believable?”

The other cops face was solemn. “Just go around kid.”

“And if I don’t wanna take a twenty minute detour?”

The first cop slammed him against the fence painfully, eliciting a painful cry from Sergio. “Then we’re just gonna have to take you down to the station.”

“What?! I didn’t do anything!”

“Are you resisting arrest?”

“Why the fuck am I getting arrested?”

“Just let the kid go, Coentrão.”

“I’m just trying to go my job, Casillas.” The cop said, mocking his partner, Sergio could tell that the second cop, Casillas, couldn’t stand this Coentrão guy.

“Fábio?” The trio turned to face a figure approaching them. A much younger guy, around Sergio’s age.

“Get outta here, Cris. This is none of your business.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I said go, Cris!”

“Please?”

“I got it from here, Coentrão.” The older cop said firmly.

Fábio let go of Sergio and grabbed the younger boys arm, harshly pulling him aside. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I _really_ need to talk to you.”

“Can’t you see I’m working?” Their voices got fainter.

Sergio got ready to bolt but the other cop caught him by his jacket. “Look, just go around. Or better yet, just leave. And don’t let him catch you around here again.”

Sergio pulled away, almost losing his balance. “Whatever man.”

“Are you drunk?”

“What of it?”

The cop shook his head in disbelief. “Just go. Before he comes back.”

Sergio eyed the two people arguing in low voices. The cop was glowering and the one named Cris looked incredibly intimidated. Not that it mattered to him. So he turned away and walked away.

\----

“Fábio, please just listen to me!”

“You can’t go. I don’t care who’s throwing the fucking party. You’re not allowed.”

“You can’t forbid me! You’re my boyfriend not my father.”

“I’ve seen how those two look at you Cris. Like they want you to join in on their weird ass lifestyle. They probably just want you to come so they can fuck you.”

“It’s called polyamory Fábio. And what does it—”

“Is that what you want? You want to sleep with one of them? Probably Gareth right? That cute little Colombian one looks like such a bottom. And you like being fucked.”

“Fábio stop.”

“Why should I? You’re the one who’s out to cheat on me.”

“I’m not!”

“Then you won’t go.”

“Okay,” Cris said, giving up. “I won’t go.”

“I knew you loved me.” Fábio smiled, his face softening dramatically. He pulled Cris into a bruising kiss. “And tomorrow you can tell them that you’re not going to talk to them again.”

Cris’ anger flared. “That’s not happening.”

“What did you say?”

“Fuck off Fábio.” Fábio’ s face contorted in hostility and Cris was scared but he didn’t back down. “I’m not going to be with someone who talks about my friends like that. If you’re not going to be nice to them, then we’re through.”

Fábio grabbed Cris by his hair, tugging at the short strands. “We’re through when I say we’re through.”

“Coentrão!” Fábio let go. The other cop, Iker, pulled him away from Cris, giving a meaningful look to the latter. Cris turned and ran. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Stay out of it Iker.”

“He’s just a kid. It’s bad enough you’ve got him sleeping with you.”

“Stay out of it!”

“If I see you hurting him again, I’m getting you suspended.”

“Mind your own fucking business.”

\----

Gareth dragged Sergio to a rave that he was throwing with one of the guys he fucked. Sergio didn’t mind. There was free alcohol. He was beyond pissed by one in the morning, grinding on some guy—or maybe he was being grinded on, he couldn’t figure out which. He couldn’t tell the floor from the ceiling, but decided that maybe it was time for some fresh air. He said it out loud, to no one in particular.

The alley he ended up in was occupied, but he pretended not to take notice. There were two guys talking quietly. One of them was crying, and the other was trying to calm him down.

“Sit down okay? You’re about to fall over.”

“I’m so sorry I’m like this.”

“Don’t say that. What did we say about ‘sorry’s’? It’s not your fault okay? Come on, sit down.”

“But it’s dirty and gross.”

“Seriously?” There was a soft chuckle. Apparently that was funny, Sergio didn’t understand why. “There we go! There’s that smile!”

A short message tone interrupted them. “Who is it?”

“It’s Gareth, he needs help with something. Coming?”

“I can’t go back in there. Too many people.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone…” The guy looked over at Sergio. “Hey! Sergio right?”

“Do I know you?” Sergio slurred. He turned to the two figures and moved closer. The man talking to him was familiar. So was the one whose face was stained with tears.

“James, we met a couple of weeks ago?”

“Oh yeah, Gareth’s...whatever.”

“Yeah, ‘Gareth’s whatever’. Listen, are you out here for a while?” Sergio nodded. “Do you think you could watch over my friend? I have to go inside for a second and I can’t leave him here alone.”

"Sure." Sergio remembered that face from earlier in the day, the one that had come to talk to that cop guy. He wondered if he was crying because of the cop guy. Sergio definitely wanted to cry because of the cop guy. He felt a little sobered all of a sudden. Not by any means completely sober, but not as piss drunk as a minute prior.

“James…”

“Don’t worry, Cris. Gareth says he’s cool.” James hugged Cris. “I’ll be back in a flash okay?”

Cris nodded. James left. Sergio inched closer.

“So, Cris...?” The boy nodded. He didn’t look much older than Sergio. “Cris. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing really.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

Cris looked down. “My boyfriends an ass.”

“Can’t be that bad. At least your boyfriend isn’t that cop from earlier right?” Sergio laughed, trying to lighten the mood. But Cris’ eyes started welling up with tears. “Oh shit. Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, wiping his the moisture and sniffling. “I thought I recognized you. I wasn’t sure till now.”

“You should break up with him.”

“I will. I’m going to, as soon as possible. But…”

“But what?”

“I’m scared of what he’ll do. He doesn’t let me hang out with anyone because he thinks I’ll cheat on him. So after today I thought ‘maybe I fucking will’ but then I came here and I couldn’t do it.”

“Because you love him?”

Cris scoffed. “No way. No fucking way. Because I’m scared he’ll kill me and whoever I cheat with.”

Sergio nodded, not really knowing what to say about that.

“But I will break up with him. You know that other cop?” Sergio nodded, again. “Yeah, Iker. He’ll help me. I know he will, but I just need to get a chance to talk to him.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine.”

A silence fell between them. But it was short-lived. “I just wish I had the courage to defy him.”

“You can.” Cris’ nose scrunched up in confusion. Sergio’s heart skipped a beat. _Holy shit._

“How?” Sergio moved forward lightning fast and pecked Cris on the lips. Cris’ eyes widened and he covered his mouth. Sergio could see a dark blush on his tan cheeks and he grinned drunkenly (it wasn’t hard to do that, he was already trashed)

“Like that.”

“I can’t believe you did that!”

Sergio laughed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. Never apologize when you’re not sorry. Or in general. It’s a very empty gesture.”

“Okay I’m not sorry.”

“Do it again.” Cris whispered.

“What?”

“Do it again!”

Sergio moved forward again, slowly this time, his hands planted on the alley wall on either side of Cris’ head. Their lips pressed together softly. Sergio tried to control himself, but his movement was sloppy. He felt extremely self-conscious about himself all of a sudden. He wanted to yell out loud, into Cris’ face. _I swear I kiss better when I’m sober!_ But Cris responded patiently and eagerly, especially when he licked, a little impatiently, at his bottom lip. Cris parted his lips to give Sergio more access. All at once, Sergio was overwhelmed with the taste of the boy in front of him. The boy who couldn’t be much older than him. The boy who had most likely been defiled by that cop. Sergio almost became angry thinking about that. Almost. He was too distracted with the way Cris was pressing up against him, grinding his hips against Sergio’s with purpose, his hands exploring Sergio’s chest under the thin material of his shirt. He shuddered when Cris grazed his fingernails over a nipple.

“What the fuck?!”

They tore away from each other, not able to look at the person who caught them.

“Really guys? I was gone—for what? Ten minutes maybe?”

A second person was laughing. “Leave them alone James.”

“Gareth!” James pinched Gareth’s side and then hissed his next words louder than he intended. “ _Cris is vulnerable right now!_ ”

“I’m right here asshat.”

“Sorry.” Sergio said sheepishly. Cris shot him an amused look with one perfect eyebrow raised. “Uh, I mean... I’m not sorry?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“No I’m not, I’m not sorry.” Cris gave him a blinding smile. Gareth and James were already on their way inside, shoving each other playfully. Sergio returned the smile and took hold of Cris’ hand, letting their intertwined fingers hang between them.

“You will be sorry.” Sergio felt a heavy pain in the back of his head before he collided with the ground, his hand being ripped from Cris’ in the process. He tried to open his eyes, but everything was spinning, so he squeezed them shut.

“Let’s go.”

“No! You hurt him.”

“And I’ll hurt you if you don’t move your ass.”

“Let me go Fábio! I told you, you don’t control me!” There was the sharp sound of skin to skin contact and something landed at Sergio’s feet. Sergio forced himself to open his eyes and saw three different versions of the cop from before hovering over him. When he blinked, he found himself staring down the barrel of three guns.

“I knew you were trouble. Shouldn’t have let you get away when I had the chance.”

“What are you doing man?” Gareth’s voice sounded so far away. _Run_ , he wanted to tell his friend. _Gareth run, the guys got a gun!_

“You better fucking leave or I’ll shoot you too.” Why does he have a gun? Why does he want to shoot me? _Cris._ The second Sergio thought the name, the boy sprang up from where he’d fallen.

“Fábio please. Just stop this.” Sergio couldn’t raise his head, he couldn’t speak. He wanted to tell Cris to run too. But who was this boy to him. They didn’t know each other. _Let him take a bullet for you_ , Sergio’s mind told him. _Better him than you._ But he couldn’t tell his mind to shove it. He wanted Cris to move, to duck, anything.

“Cris.” Fábio warned. “Move. Move now and I’ll forget this ever happened. We’ll start over, somewhere else. Just the two of us.”

“No.” Fábio swung the butt of his gun into the side of Cris’ head. Cris fell next to Sergio.

“Then you die too.” Sergio’s vision was so blurry. But he heard an unmistakable click. And he knew exactly what it was. So he closed his eyes, and his hand found Cris’. This boy he didn’t know. That he was going to die next to. And then a loud bang. He felt something splatter over him, but no pain. _Oh god, he killed Cris first._

But there was no second shot.

Instead, something heavy fell on him and he could no longer breathe. He screamed pathetically. His limbs began to work again so he pushed whatever it was that fell on him to the side and sat up. His head pounded horribly and his vision still hadn’t returned to him all the way. The smell of metal took over his nose and his shirt was soaked with something sticky. Two strong arms wrapped themselves around him and the familiar smell of Gareth’s cologne thankfully overpowered the smell of what he could only assume was blood.

“Is Cris dead?”

“No, he’s not. Don’t worry, you’re okay. You’re both okay.” Slowly his sight cleared. He saw Cris with that other cop (Iker, was it?). Iker was holding him tight, rocking him back and forth, and whispering softly to him.

“Iker,” Cris sobbed. “Iker, he tried to kill me.”

“It’s over now,” Iker soothed. “I never should have let this go so far.”

“Fábio tried to kill me.” Cris sounded like he was choking. “I can’t breathe.”

James was crouched down next to them.  “Okay give him some space.”

Everyone scooted back a bit, except for Iker, who only loosened his grip.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not that bad.” There was a crowd beginning to gather at the mouth of the alley. “What do we do now?”

“Well I have to go fill out a lot of paperwork,” Iker said, grimacing. “I’ll check up on you as soon as I can.”

Cris nodded and Iker sent a meaningful glance towards James.

“Thank you for calling me. We got lucky that I was so close-by.” Iker was still frowning. Sergio wondered if he was ever happy. “Take care of him, okay? Get some food in him, put him to sleep, I’ll try to get in touch by morning.”

“Aren’t you upset that you killed someone?” Sergio asked. He felt as if his comment was a bit out of turn but Fábio’s body was emitting a lot of blood that was slowly inching its way towards him and he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. He didn’t yet realize that it was the cops blood that he was already soaked in.

“Not really. I don’t know how the guy managed to become a cop considering he was a raging psychopath. I’ve been wanting to put bullet between his eyes for a long time.” Iker got up and tried to disperse the crowd that was getting bigger. Someone else must have also called the police because there was two other cops and an ambulance now. The paramedics attended to Cris and Sergio before they left with James and Gareth—their party was still raging but that could happen without them there. Sergio had a moderate concussion and Cris needed stitches on his forehead, but other than that they were okay—besides the severe psychological damage they would both need a lot of time to recover from. But nonetheless, they sat together on the couch at Gareth’s place, their shoulders touching, leaning into each other for comfort.

“This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t kissed you.”

“Are you sorry?”

“No. But I feel horrible.”

“I do too. At least we can feel horrible together.”

Sergio laughed, and then winced. His head hurt like a bitch. “We should, uh, maybe hang out sometime. And maybe kiss again. And not be sorry about it.”

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the last chapter might take a while to upload because I'll be studying for first exam all of tomorrow.
> 
> I'll aim for as quickly as possible.


	11. Tell Me Would You Come Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cris calls Iker to ask for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... final chapter.

“Hello?”

“Iker?”

“Cris! Are you okay? You sound like hell.”

“A bit of a sore throat, but listen. I messed up, Iker. I messed up big time.”

“What happened?”

“I—I didn’t tell Sergio about our expiration date. And then after we talked about it I think he thinks that I want to break up or something which I do _not_. But he’s at therapy now and I don’t know what to do. What if he doesn’t come home after? What if he—” he had to stop for a particularly bad round of coughs.

“Okay slow down. Where is he?” Cris took a few seconds for recovery.

“At therapy.”

“And when is he done?”

“Around two.”

“Okay sit tight I’ll be right over.”

Cris decided to take a nap while he waited. Iker was most likely at the group home facility he volunteered at when he was off duty. It was on the other side of town. He had met Iker for the first time at that facility when his parents and been killed in a hit and run. There was no other family he had so he'd been put into the home. Iker looked out for every kid at that home but he and Cris became especially close after some time.

The doorbell rang after a thirty minute nap that was not in the least satisfying. Cris managed to get to the door and open it.

“So why is he so mad about the date?” Iker had a habit of avoiding pleasantries.

“Because it’s today.” Iker’s usually stony expression softened.

“Cris…”

“I don’t want this to end.”

“I didn’t even know you’d registered.”

“I should never have convinced him to do it.”

“I’m sure that isn’t the issue Cris.” Iker says. “Best thing to do is talk to him as soon as possible. It’s almost two. I don’t think you should really be out and about if you’re sick but maybe this isn’t an opportunity you should miss. Come on I’ll drive you.”

Iker kept throwing worried glances at Cris as they drove. Every once in a while, Cris would be taken over with a wracking cough that would leave him shuddering and groaning involuntarily. His head was hanging low.

“What if he doesn’t want to do this anymore?”

“Do what?”

“Deal,” Cris sneezed into the crook of his elbow, “with me.”

“If anything, I think it’s you who puts up with him.”

“That’s not true!”

“Err,” Iker squinted at the road. “It’s pretty true. He has a lot of… issues.”

“Yeah well I happen to love putting up with him. And his issues, I love his issues.”

Cris saw Iker roll his eyes.

“Okay I hate the drinking. But he’s working on that!”

More eye rolling.

“Okay so, he never cleans up after himself and his taste in music is horrible and—fuck, that’s not the point Iker!”

“I know it's not the point. If I didn’t believe you were being truthful about your feelings I wouldn’t have offered to drive you.”

They sat in silence for a while after that. The car was moving at a snails pace. Cris started whining through his hazy fever. “Ugh, we’ll never make it in this traffic! Iker, do something.”

“Really, Cris? What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“I wish we were in your cruiser.” Cris leaned his hot forehead on the cool glass of the window. “I think I’ll walk.”

“What?!” But it was too late. The car was barely moving and Cris jumped out before Iker could stop him. “Cris get back in the car!”

“Iker, it’s just one more block.”

“I don’t care!”

“By the time the car gets there and finds a parking spot he’ll be gone.”

“You can call him and tell him to wait.”

“Do you really think he’ll answer a call from me right now?” The traffic moved an inch and several cars honked at Cris. “He’ll only talk if he sees me. Trust me, I know him.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He slammed the door and weaved his way through the cars to the sidewalk. A cab honked at him as he cut across its pathway. He yelled an apology and began running, Sergio would definitely be out by now. His lungs were constricting, his breath came out in short bursts and his heart was supplying absolutely no oxygen to his muscles at all. His chest felt restrained and the cold air burned his throat. But he was almost there.

Cris spotted Sergio on the other side of the street and stopped running. He looked just as good as he had in the morning, when Cris had made the biggest mistake one could ever make. The light turned red. Sergio was crossing the street now with a throng of people crossing the other way. Soon this nightmare would be over. Soon Sergio would reach him and he would wrap his arms around him and tell him how stupid he was to let anything come between them. And Sergio would forgive him because Sergio had made stupid decisions in their relationship too. Cris wasn’t going to let anything pull them apart. Not another person, not his own doubts and definitely not an expiration date.

Sergio was making his way through the traffic of people going against him. Someone shoved him and he shot them a dirty look over his shoulder. When he turned back his eyes almost automatically found Cris and lit up. This was it. Cris knew that Sergio had to be thinking the same thing because he smiled and walked a little faster and was almost—

There was a flash of headlights, the deafening sound of a car horn, a sickening thud—the crunch of bone and the crack of skull against pavement—the blood, so much blood, unresponsive eyes. Nothing. Nothing left.

 

"Take me back to the times

Together we'd seek out, together we'd live out

All of the rest of our lives

For just one more minute

I can't get you in it

One moment to fill in lost time

Face it's too late now"

-  _Windows in Heaven_ , We Are The In Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me till the end!!!
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts, opinions, hopes, dreams, and whatever else you feel like you need to say :D


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